


Mug(one) Shot

by fearsgottaholdonme, orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, SOME PARTS OF THIS SOUND DEVIOUS AND GORY BUT I SWEAR WE DID NOT INTEND FOR THAT TO HAPPEN, TOTAL AND COMPLETE CRACK, allison is also a muffin, death by nuns, derek is grapefruit, deucalion shits, isaac is a tea cup, lydia is a sugar cookie, matt is coffee and super fucking creepy, scott is a muffin, stiles is creamer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearsgottaholdonme/pseuds/fearsgottaholdonme, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac is broken. Scott helps him see that broken is just another label. Like 'scene kid.' Or 'mass murderer.' It doesn't define you.<br/>This is literally all crack everyone is an inanimate object or food we may or may not have been high while writing this.<br/>Happy late birthday/early christmas Maeve!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mug(one) Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonystarksicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarksicle/gifts).



> scott is a muffin  
> isaac is a coffee mug  
> beautiful  
> stiles is creamer  
> derek is grapefruit  
> allison is a muffin  
> ye s  
> erica is a sugar cube  
> boyd is tea (laid back and awesome)  
> lydia is a sugar cookie  
> matt is coffee  
> amazing

The day started off normal; the sun rose, the birds chirped as they slammed their bodies against the window, making the smell of suicide potent in the morning air. They all awoke to the sound of Deucalion shitting out last weeks Mexican buffet for the second time that morning. Isaac and Scott both grimaced, muttering how they could never look at Mexican the same way again. Scott jumped into Isaac and Isaac scuttled them both to where the others were standing.

“Morning guys.” Isaac hummed cheerfully, looking around at his friends. Derek squirted his sour juice at him, Lydia and Allison crumbed sweetly, and Stiles just creamed himself. _What a great time to be alive,_ Isaac thought.

Their morning greetings were interrupted by the chime of the bell placed above the main entrance, signaling a customer.

“Welcome to Dukey and Kalibear’s Urban Tea Legend, would you like to try any of our monthly specials? This month’s special is an eggs benda _dick_ muffin with a side of hollandayezzz sauce.” Deucalion hummed, shuffling his bum leg over to the customer’s table. “Ho ho ho, how are you today?” he greeted,with the least amount of jolly feel goodness one could possibly manage.

“It’s.... _July_...”

“Good thing I’m asking you for your order and not you’re commentary.” Duke’s eyebrows fused into one big V, something he learned from a friend in ‘Nam, when he was in ‘Nam. And when he had friends. 

The customer did a good and decided to ignore his host’s unruly ability to make anyone feel uncomfortable, and gave his breakfast order; “I’ll have a cup of Joe, no sugar and a splash of creamer,” he he told Big D, and an unmanly yelp was heard from the counter (it was Stiles okay do u understand the joke i’m trying to make here please do it’s 3 a.m) “and a hearty dose of manpain. This is Beacon Hills after all, gotta keep up with the trends.”

Deucalion gave a confirming hum as he jotted down the last of the man’s order. “Manpain is definitely in right now.”

Everyone was gathering around Stiles, patting his back with their bodies and exchanging words of comfort. 

”Maybe this one won’t take as much out of you as Gerard did last week, huh?” Scott offered, dodging another stream of Derek’s juice. “Hey -- HEY. You know I hate when your juice seeps into my insides and makes it all soggy. Feels like a wet diaper.” Allison and Lydia hummed in agreement, patting away from the group probably to go rub fruit or s/t (confections these days, huh?).

Isaac and Stiles both braced themselves as Deucalion’s grubby nubbys grasped them and hoisted them up into the air. “Well boys, seems like you’re up for morning duty (dooty).” They rolled their inanimate eyeballs at his lameass pun but didn’t fight it when he placed them on the counter. Isaac hissed as Matt’s grossly hot liquid made contact with his cold porcelain bottom. Matt chuckled, filling Isaac up to the rim, burning his insides. Stiles sighed as the stranger flicked him over Isaac and Matt, already feeling himself being drained. 

Unaware of the creep show that he was instigating, Deucalion addressed his customer once more; “What did you say your name was again?”

“Lahey, Mr. Lahey.”

“Your first name is Mr?”

“It is to you.”

“Was I just burned?”

“Like a family of werewolves trapped in a house fire.”

The conversation ended as Deucalion set down Mr. Lahey’s coffee and walked away so he may find some solace in his shitty beverage. He took his first sip, grimacing at the bitter flavor of Matt lingering on his tongue. The beverage was so disgusting it was almost offensive to his taste buds. Mr. Lahey dropped the cup like it was a sick beat. You see, the man was very intent to keep his taste buds, because they were the only ‘buds’ he had. Unfortunately, Mr. Lahey’s act of self preservation was beneficial only to him. Matt was spilled across the table like a cheap placemat, and Isaac had ended up on his side, his rim aching from the fall. 

Mr. Lahey stood and promptly stated “I’m outtie,” before trapezing through the front door from which he came. As he stepped out on the street, intending to cross to Beacon Hill’s normally named coffee shop, he was hit by a bus. A bus full of nuns. Who were so enraged by the man who detoured their trip to the Metallica concert by getting hit by their bus that they exited the vehicle in a mass riot and started beating down on Mr. Lahey’s corpse. _dead_ corpse, he’s dead, they killed him. A bunch of outraged rocker chic nuns killed Mr. Lahey. Amen.

Back inside Dukey and Kalibear’s Urban Tea Legend, the gang was crowding around their fallen adversary, whose frame was still ringing from his earlier impact with the table. They pushed Isaac upright, holding him until he stopped wobbling.

The injured comrade glanced around the group. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked to Lydia. “Tell it to me straight doc, will I ever dance again?”

Lydia pursed her sugary lips and shook her head sadly. “”The tango lost a brave soldier this day.” Isaac seemed to come closer to the brink of tears, and Lydia added “But to be fair, you couldn’t dance worth a shit before so...”

The group let out a shaky laugh, all except for Derek who, seeing that Isaac was probably not going to die a horrible death within the next few minutes, rolled off the table to go reminisce sourly behind the counter. 

All of a sudden, a sharp gasp was let out by Allison. “Isaac!” she shouted. “Your rim! It’s CHIPPED.”

If this was a reality show, now would cue a close up on Isaac’s horrified expression. For tea cups, a chip was a death sentence. It made you undesirable- and not ‘Harry Potter’s’ kind of undesirable- a chip made you unseemly, less used. A cupboard potato. Isaac’s expression grew more hysterical, and he hopped off the table and shimmied behind the trashcan, hoping his shame would follow him. The rest of the group started to follow after him , but Scott, bless his whole wheaty heart, stopped the moving mass of edibles and objects. He motioned for them to stay put as he moved on, gingerly closing the distance to the trash bin.

“Isaac...” he called out softly, not wanting to startle the poor lad anymore.

There was a soft whimper to be heard. “Don’t come any closer Scott. Please, just...don’t.” Isaac sounded as close to tears as a cup could get.

“Isaac,” Scott started again, but stayed put, respecting Isaac’s wishes for space. “Isaac there’s no need to hide. It’s just a little chip-”

“A chip is a chip Scott, no matter how small. It can’t be fixed, _I_ can’t be fixed. I’m _broken_ Scott.”

As respectful as he was, Scott couldn’t stand the pure hopelessness in Isaac’s voice any longer, and moved around the trash bin to face the cup. Even as he stood in front of him, Isaac refused to meet Scott’s eyes, looking firmly at the ground. Scott sighed and asked kindly, “Isaac, please look at me.”

Isaac lifted his shameful gaze to his friend, tears welling in his porcelain eyes. It didn’t seem like his resolve would last for much longer before he was running away in self disgust and uncalled for angst, so Scott made his next few words count. “You’re right, Isaac. A chip is a chip.” Isaac started to look confused, so Scott tried to get to the point more clearly. “I mean that a chip is simply that; a chip. It’s a discontinuance in one’s physical form, nothing more. A chip of the body is not a chip on the soul. It’s not a chip on the heart.” Scott scooched closer to his friend, extending his bran in an affectionate touch. “A silly little chip does not rearrange who you are, Isaac. If anything, embracing it will make you stronger.”

The tears in Isaac’s eyes were falling freely now, but fear and self loathing were not the cause. Scott knew the tears were happy ones, relieved ones. Because of that he couldn’t even bring himself to care when they started to soak through his muffin top. Isaac was not alone, not unloved, and now he knew it. This was enough. 

When it became clear that the confrontation had turned smooth, the rest of the gang joined them behind the trash bin, making a group hug commence. Even Derek rolled over for a spell, squirting at Isaac semi-affectionately. 

“Besides,” Scott couldn’t help but add, “scars are a total turn on.” It had Isaac laughing, smiling through his runny nose, and that, _that_ was definitely enough for Scott.


End file.
